


Closer

by Rynne



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Academy Era, First Time, Getting Together, Holidays, K/S Advent Calendar, M/M, Slow Build, academy au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-20
Updated: 2011-12-20
Packaged: 2017-10-27 15:46:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/297468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rynne/pseuds/Rynne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the <b>2011 K/S Advent Calendar</b>. Prompt: Academy AU.  Kirk has a massive crush on Spock and convinces the professor to go on dates with him, although nothing happens (Jim can delay gratification, really he can!).  Finally Spock caves in over the holidays.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to **novembery** for the superfast beta!

Jim did not actually join the Xenolinguistics Club just to annoy Uhura. Like every other Terran, he started learning a language in primary school -- he picked Tellarite, just because they looked like pigs and that seemed hilarious to him as a kid. By the time he finished secondary school, he could speak, passably if not fluently, in another four. He learned a few more even after finishing secondary school. He actually likes learning languages. Not enough to make it his life's work, but they're puzzles, and he's always liked unraveling puzzles.

So he's actually in the Xenolinguistics Club on his own merits. Annoying Uhura is just a bonus.

But oh, what a glorious bonus it is.

In fact, it's shaping up to be the only thing making this meeting worth it. Registration for next term is coming up, and the Xenolinguistics Club had several upperclassmen come and talk about the available xenolinguistics courses.

Jim likes languages, but he has no intention of taking more courses on them. He's tested out of the Academy's language requirements anyway, and if he wants to finish in three years, the last thing he should do is take courses he doesn't need. Like with the languages, he's tested out of enough classes that his schedule almost resembles a normal cadet's, but he still doesn't have much wiggle room.

Or at least, that's what he's thinking until the end of the meeting, when, determined to salvage something out of the hour, he heads straight for Uhura before she can leave with her friends.

"Cadet Uhura!" he exclaims, intercepting her and grinning at her undisguised annoyance. "You're looking lovely, as always. How about that drink?"

"Save it for the farm animals, Kirk," she retorts. "I'm sure they're missing you."

He pulls an exaggeratedly mournful face. "And I'm sure they've forgotten all about me. Want to console me?"

"Oh, I really don't think I'll be an adequate substitute."

"Why don't you let me be the judge of that...Gloria?"

Uhura rolls her eyes. "No."

"Is that for the invitation or the name?"

"Guess."

"I think it's for the name. Penda?"

"Is this really what you want to spend your time on? _Really?_ "

He nods. "Oh, it definitely is. Rumplestiltzkin?"

She hides her face with one hand and turns away, but not before he can see the twitching of her lips. He can't stop the grin from spreading across his face, and he doesn't even want to.

"You do not actually get anything if you get my name right," she says, her face once again still.

"Except the satisfaction being able to put a gorgeous name to a just as gorgeous face."

She sighs. "Please tell me you've decided you're taking that routine on the road. It's okay, Kirk, there are plenty of people not suited to such a regimented life. A lot of people drop out after the first term."

"True, I do feel awfully restricted here." He nods seriously. "I think it's good for me, though. My mother always told me I needed to learn some discipline, and better late than never, right?"

"I'll believe you have discipline when I see it."

"That's what the learning process is for! And you never stop learning, isn't that right?"

She widens her eyes in mock incredulity. "You can _learn_? I never would have guessed."

He thumps a fist against his chest. "That gets me, Uhura. What do I have to do to prove it to you?" He waggles his eyebrows. "I promise, I'm a very quick learner, given...proper incentives."

She looks unimpressed. "Have you decided on your language?"

Okay, that was unexpected. He crosses his arms. "I wasn't going to take one." He flashes a smile. "Tested out."

"I'm taking Vulcan next term," she informs him. "It's not the hardest language the Academy offers, but it's one of the hardest. And it's not one you speak, is it?"

Slowly, he shakes his head. He can see where this is going. "Uhura, I don't have time to take another language class."

She raises an elegant eyebrow at him. "I thought you were a _quick learner_. You can't manage one extra class?"

"Why should I?" he replies. "I mean, I understand completely if you want to see more of me than just one hour a week, but what's in it for me?"

"A chance to impress me," she says sweetly, giving him an insincere smile. "And Kirk, I am very hard to impress." She blinks at him innocently. "Unless, of course, you don't think you can handle it."

She finally pushes past him after that, and Jim lets her go.

Should he? He really doesn't need another class added to his schedule. He can handle it, sure, but is he really going to let Uhura goad him into it just for the chance to impress her?

But she practically dared him, and Jim is very, very bad at turning down dares.

A smile tugs at his lips, even though Uhura's no longer there to see it.

Looks like he'll be taking Vulcan next term.

\--

As it turns out, he likes Vulcan. It really is a challenge, and he just loves the narrow-eyed look Uhura never fails to give him when he answers a question correctly before she does.

"So what's you being impressed worth to me?" he asks her after the first two weeks.

"Your self-respect?" she suggests.

He laughs. "Sorry to inform you, but my self-respect doesn't hinge on your opinion," he tells her with amusement. "Nice try, though. How about a date?"

"I should have known."

He holds out his hands in an exaggerated shrug. "Yeah, you probably should have." He smirks. "But I promise, I'm not a bad date. I can provide references, if you like."

"That's not a plus. Promiscuity is not a positive trait, Kirk."

"Hey, I don't have to be promiscuous to have had a few old lovers enjoy spending time with me. Come on, Uhura. One date."

She considers him levelly, and he contrives to look earnest and eager. It's a look he's perfected, and it seems not even Uhura is immune. She closes her eyes briefly and shakes her head, but she says, " _If_ , at the end of the term, I think you have learned some degree of discipline and maturity, I will go on one date with you -- without an expectation of sex. And afterwards, you leave me alone."

Jim's not worried about the 'discipline and maturity' thing. He does actually have some self-control; he just likes pulling Uhura's pigtails. "I won't pester you to go out with me anymore," he finally offers, then smirks. "Unless, of course, you want me to. But you can't ask me to never interact with you again."

She eyes him, but when he doesn't put any further conditions on it, she nods sharply and holds out her hand. "Agreed."

He can't resist -- he grabs her hand and pulls it up to kiss the back, and laughs when she pulls it away immediately. "Start thinking about what you're going to wear on our date!" he calls, walking backward and grinning when she glares.

He turns around just in time to avoid colliding with someone, but sticks a hand up to wave a final goodbye without looking. For the rest of the day, he can't get the smile off his face.

\--

But by the end of the term, he's forgotten about Uhura's challenge completely.

Their instructor, Commander Ahmed, informed them at the beginning of the term that while she was pregnant, she wasn't supposed to be due until after classes were over.

It turns out that's not the case, because apparently she's having twins and the babies are impatient or something, Jim doesn't know. He doesn't really care, either.

Because when she realized that she wouldn't finish the term, Commander Ahmed arranged for a substitute. When he gets the message that he still has to go to class, he makes a face -- he was looking forward to having that time slot free, and he's perfectly capable of studying two weeks of material on his own until the exam.

Still, he dutifully trudges to class. If the substitute is useless, he can just skip the rest and study on his own.

Then the Vulcan walks in.

Jim finds him immediately attractive, but that's not so unusual as to be notable. And when he says, "I am Lieutenant Commander Spock, and I will be your instructor for the remaining two weeks of your term," Jim lets himself smile as the sound of that smooth, cool voice washes over him. That is one elegant voice, Jim decides, and wonders what it would sound like raspy and rough and desperate.

But it's only an idle interest. Jim's had plenty of those. He's happy to look at the Vulcan while he's there, but the class is only another two...

His brain stutters to a stop as Spock meets his eyes.

For one long, clock-stopping moment, the world fades away. The chatting of students, the clatter of personal PADDs and computers, even the whisper-soft sound of his own breathing -- all gone. The only thing he can hear is his heart, beating out of control.

Jim can see unmasked surprise in Spock's eyes -- surprise, and more. There's something vulnerable in the depths of those eyes, vulnerable and _wanting_. They're dark, and deep, and drawing him in. He could drown in those eyes, and he'd let it happen.

Spock blinks and looks away, and the world rushes in again. Jim comes back to himself to find he's leaning forward, his mouth is dry, and his face feels hot. As casually as he can, he hides one burning cheek in his palm and quickly glances around to see if anyone noticed his reaction, but everyone else is paying attention to their instructor.

Jim pays attention to him as well, fierce, undivided attention. He listens to Spock's voice, but can barely understand what it's saying. He watches every movement Spock makes, fluid, with a graceful economy.

At the end of the class, he's not sure he can recall what the lecture was about, but he doesn't give a damn. He heads straight for Spock, standing by the teacher's desk and answering questions.

He hitches his bookbag over his shoulder when it's his turn. "Commander Spock, hi, my name is Jim Kirk," he says, smoothly and firmly. He meets brown eyes once again, and doesn't let them throw him as he picks a topic to discuss and continues, "I have a few questions about the subjunctive. Vulcan seems to treat it differently than any other language I've studied, and I was wondering if that was due to some of your beliefs about logic and reality."

He doesn't even mean to hold his breath as Spock considers him, but he feels frozen beneath that steady gaze, his skin alive and tingling almost paradoxically. Then Spock frees him by saying, "The development of the subjunctive mood in modern Vulcan has a complex history. If you are truly interested, we may go to my office and discuss it further."

Jim beams at him, and Spock pauses for a moment in packing up his materials, so briefly that if Jim hadn't been watching him closely he wouldn't have caught it. Spock focuses on him once again when he's finished and inclines his head.

"The subjunctive mood," he begins to explain as they walk, "evolved into its more simplified form from the more chaotic pre-Reformation Vulcan language..."

Jim listens intently as they walk, and asks questions when he can think of them. Over an hour later, he's arguing with Spock in Spock's office about the path pre-warp English took evolving into Standard.

He's completely forgotten about Uhura.

\--

Jim hadn't planned on continuing to study Vulcan after this term, but when he looks up Spock's profile, it lists him as being one of the few teachers the Academy has for the upper-level Vulcan classes.

Registration for the summer term is pretty much over, but open registration will start once the term does. Jim doesn't even care that it will be an extra class he doesn't need -- he's taking more Vulcan. Spock doesn't teach the second level, but he does teach the third, so by fall term, Jim will be able to have Spock for his teacher the entire term.

In the meantime, he occupies himself playing chess against the computer. He noticed a Tri-D chessboard in Spock's office, and Spock doesn't seem like the type to have meaningless knickknacks around. If he has a chessboard, he most likely enjoys playing chess.

Jim used to be pretty good at the game himself, but it's been years since he played. He spent a lot of time playing as a teenager, trying to distract himself from Frank and the aftermath of Tarsus. He pretty much stopped once he discovered alcohol and bar fights, but he's a good, law-abiding citizen now. He should cultivate some wholesome hobbies.

And Spock plays chess. Most likely.

God, he's going _insane_. He's completely obsessed with a Vulcan he's spent no more than a few hours with, and one who's an instructor to boot. What the hell is he thinking? What does he even want out of this?

But whenever he tries to tell himself that he's in too deep and he needs to get out, he remembers the grace of Spock's movements, the smooth, silky voice, and those eyes, vulnerable and wanting.

Jim saw something in Spock he doesn't think the Vulcan often shows. Vulcans purport to have no emotions, to live their lives entirely by logic, but Jim saw something more.

He doesn't know why he saw it. He doesn't even know if Spock meant to show it, if he had his guard down and Jim caught him at a good time...or if Jim just saw something in Spock that no one else would.

He wants to find out. He wants to _know_.

Maybe once he does, he'll be able to let this go.

\--

There's only a month in between terms, so while plenty of people leave during that time, plenty of people don't. Academy dorms stay open, as do many Academy organizations. Including both the Xenolinguistics Club and the Chess Club.

Jim goes to the Chess Club first. Spock isn't there -- not that Jim really expected he would be, no matter what the disappointed twinge in his stomach thinks -- but Jim is glad for the opportunity to play against real people. The computer's good, but it's too predictable.

When he gets to the Xenolinguistics Club, though, he finally remembers his deal with Uhura. She approaches him after the meeting with the air of someone determined to get a distasteful task over with.

"All right, Kirk," she announces as she draws near. "Never let it be said that I don't keep my promises."

He blinks at her, and only then remembers that they're supposed to go on a date. He just...can't seem to summon the same enthusiasm for the idea.

"It's okay," he says, deciding to let her off easy. "You don't have to."

She eyes him warily. "I made a deal--"

He waves it off. "I don't _actually_ want to go on a date with someone who doesn't really want to be there. I'm not that hard up."

"Then why ask me out?"

"To see if you'd go," he answers simply, and grins when she huffs. Finally she sighs and tilts her head at him.

"I don't understand you," she says. "Are you still going to leave me alone?"

"You're not the only one who keeps promises," he replies. "Don't worry, Uhura. I'm not going to keep asking you out."

She seems satisfied with that, and turns to leave. Just as she reaches the door, though, he calls out, "Of course, I said nothing about general flirting!"

She stiffens, and her glare meets his wide grin. She really has the _best_ reactions.

\--

Spock continues not showing up at Chess Club, and Jim doesn't know anything else about him, apart from what's in his public profile. So after a couple weeks of arguing with himself about how pathetic he's being and how he doesn't even want a serious relationship, he sends Spock a message, and, at his invitation, shows up at his office.

"Cadet Kirk." Spock looks up as the door slides open, the impact of his eyes once again hitting like a punch to the gut. They aren't as open as they were the first time Jim saw them, but they're...calm. Steady. Beautiful.

Did he really just think that?

He clears his throat. "Thanks for meeting with me."

"Thanks are unnecessary. You are a student." He turns to face Jim more directly as Jim sits down in front of his desk. "What do you require?"

Jim leans forward, propping his elbows up on Spock's clean desk. "I'm continuing with Vulcan next term," he says, "and I wanted a leg up, I suppose. I'd ask Commander Ahmed, since she's teaching next term as well, but I don't want to interrupt her time with her kids."

"Indeed." Spock surveys him. "For what purpose do you request this...leg up? I am not privy to your grades for the previous term, but our previous discussion indicated you are quite intelligent, with a commendable grasp of the material."

Do not blush, Kirk. Don't do it.

He controls himself with effort, and replies, "That may be, but I'm Command track, and I'm trying to finish the Academy in three years instead of four. I've tested out of a lot of classes, but I still probably don't have the room to study Vulcan much farther. I'd still like to learn as much as I can."

Spock's eyes warm, and a tiny thrill runs up Jim's spine as he sees it happen. "Quite logical," Spock praises. "I am agreeable to helping you. When would you like to begin?"

"No time like the present," Jim suggests, and can't help beaming again when Spock agrees.

Particularly when Spock's eyes linger for a long moment on his smile.

\--

So Spock starts informally teaching him Vulcan. When the summer term begins, Spock asks if Jim would like to continue, given he now has his class. Of course Jim immediately says he wants to keep going, and Spock doesn't seem to mind.

Then at the end of one tutoring session, Jim finally brings up the chess set still on one of Spock's shelves. Spock's eyes lighten a shade as he draws it down and faces it so Jim takes white.

He's obviously secure in his abilities, and Jim knows he himself isn't horrible, not when he can beat most of the Chess Club -- but he didn't really expect the carnage that is his first match with Spock. At the end of it, neither has more than a few pieces left on the board and Jim manages to corner Spock with no more than two pawns and a rook. His triumphant, "Checkmate," is loud in a room gone still and silent with their concentration.

And Spock is...Spock is _pouting_ at the board. His full lower lip juts out just the tiniest bit, and Jim has to close his eyes and clamp down on the urge to take it in his mouth. When he opens his eyes again, Spock's face is once again blank and controlled.

"Your tactics are most...innovative," Spock says. His tone is almost _grudging_.

Jim is utterly charmed.

"I only picked the game up again recently," he says. "I started off just playing the computer, but the computer was too predictable. I like the challenge of a real opponent. Real people come up with things that would never occur to a computer."

Spock inclines his head, looking at Jim briefly before turning his attention to the chess pieces. His long fingers almost seem to caress them as he sets them in their proper places.

"Best two out of three?" Jim suggests, tearing his attention away from Spock's hands.

Spock agrees, and they play.

\--

Jim doesn't see Spock for the next two weeks.

Part of it is that he's trying to spend time with his other friends; Bones has been making neglected noises, and teasing him about his newest lover. Jim doesn't correct him.

He can't deny it -- he finds Spock attractive, almost overpoweringly so. Common gossip holds that non-Vulcans would get better results slamming their heads against a wall than trying to sleep with a Vulcan, but Jim doesn't think that's quite true. Maybe Vulcans are incredibly selective, but -- he thinks Spock might be attracted to him too. He certainly likes Jim, or he wouldn't be so willing to spend time with him.

The question Jim finds himself pacing over is, does he actually _want_ to sleep with Spock?

The easy answer to that is yes, of course he does. What lurks behind the easy answer, though, is the question of what happens after.

Most of Jim's relationships have been barely worthy of the name. He's had a few one-night stands, but usually his attraction and attention last beyond that. His partners have still never really been more than bedmates, with the occasional meal, drink, or dance thrown in. It lasts a few weeks and everybody has fun, and then they split off with no hard feelings on either side. No deep feelings on either side.

It's been a couple months since he last had a date. While he's had longer dry spells, it's pretty unusual for him to go this long with only his good right hand for company. Even when he was haphazardly pursuing Uhura, he didn't let her denials stop him from having fun with someone else.

He knows he wants Spock. The problem is that he doesn't want anyone else.

And he can't really imagine Spock being fine with having sex for three weeks and then barely seeing each other after that.

\--

"Hello, Jim," Spock says, when Jim finally accepts his call.

"Spock." He shifts guiltily in his chair. "Sorry I haven't been around. I've been...really busy."

"Indeed," Spock agrees. His deep eyes lighten a shade, which Jim has come to learn mean his mood has improved. Jim's heart thumps loudly in his chest at the evidence that Spock enjoys his company. "Your midterms are progressing well?"

Jim grasps gratefully after the excuse. "They'd better be, after all the work I've been doing," he says. "Of course, I feel incredibly prepared for Vulcan."

"As is only proper," Spock agrees.

Jim stretches. "Still, I'd be up for getting out of my room for a bit. Have you had lunch yet? There's a vegetarian place a few blocks away that one of my friends has been pestering me to try."

"I am amenable to that suggestion."

So they go out, and the food's not bad, though Jim wouldn't want to eat it all the time. Jim just...lets himself enjoy Spock's company.

He doesn't think about how quickly he's fallen, or how deep he already is. He doesn't think about where this is inevitably going to lead if he lets himself get any deeper.

He listens to Spock's smooth, melodious voice, and laughs at the sometimes wry and sometimes sarcastic statements that are his versions of jokes, and tells him stories about some of the things he got up to in Iowa just to see his eyebrow shoot up.

They don't talk about the language of Vulcan except in how it relates to some of Spock's experiences on the planet, when he's willing to talk about it. Spock doesn't seem to mind that he seems to have been promoted from tutor to friend.

"You are completely illogical," he concludes with small but noticeable incredulity at the end of one of Jim's stories about jumping off the roof in a Superman cape and breaking his leg.

"Maybe, but aren't I interesting, at least?" Jim teases.

Spock doesn't deny it, and Jim laughs, and doesn't think about what it means.

\--

Jim's not satisfied with trying not to think about it, though. If there's one thing he's learned in his life, it's that you have to go after what you want, because no one's just going to give it to you.

But he can't seduce a Vulcan like he has his previous lovers. Spock doesn't care for alcohol, and Jim can't imagine him being flattered into doing anything.

So he thinks about it logically, as Spock will almost definitely do himself, and he comes up with a plan.

He asks Spock to meet him in his room while his roommate's gone, and spends the time waiting for Spock to get there pacing and rehearsing what he's going to say. Finally the door buzzes, and when Jim lets Spock in, he's struck anew by the Vulcan's simple, elegant beauty. His hands twitch, wanting to reach out and touch, but Jim clenches them in fists.

Hopefully soon.

"Jim," Spock says, sitting down in Jim's desk chair as Jim sits on the bed. "You requested to see me?"

He nods, and replies, "I'm not going to be taking your class next term."

Spock tilts his head. "And this required a meeting to convey? Jim, I understand the requirements of your schedule. I will not be offended by your inability to take a class not required for the completion of your course of study."

"I didn't think you would be offended, but while it's true I don't think I'll have time to take Vulcan, that's not exactly why I don't want to take your class." Moment of truth, Jim, he coaches himself. Say it straight. A Vulcan won't appreciate hedging. "I don't want to take your class because I'm very attracted to you, and I'd rather be your lover than your student."

Spock's eyes widen, the motion tiny enough that Jim doesn't think he'd see it if he weren't watching Spock carefully.

Finally, after a long, nail-bitingly nervous moment, Spock replies, "Whether or not you are my student, you are still a cadet, and I am still an instructor. A sexual relationship between us would be inappropriate."

Well, that at least answers the question of whether Spock is attracted to men. 'Inappropriate' doesn't mean 'not interested.' And while Jim would have liked for Spock to agree immediately, he did anticipate that Spock would have some concerns.

"It's not against regulations," Jim points out. "At most it's unofficially frowned-on. The biggest concerns are about coercion and favoritism, and it's sort of ridiculous for anyone to accuse a Vulcan of either. They're pretty much a non-issue if I'm not in your class, because otherwise you don't have any control over my career, other than recommendations. And I can't imagine you giving a recommendation based on favoritism rather than merit."

"...You have thought about this," Spock murmurs, his eyes dark and contemplative. "Have you prepared arguments for all my possible concerns?"

"The ones I could think of," Jim agrees, but then admits, "But there's a lot about you I don't know. I want to fix that, but I understand there might be more you want to discuss. I thought you'd probably be logical about this."

"And you would be satisfied with a relationship based upon logic?"

Jim draws a leg up and rests his arm on his knee, smirking and trying to hide the excitement building in his stomach. Spock has to be interested. There's no way he'd let the discussion get this far if he weren't. If he doesn't want Jim at all, he'd just _say_ that. "Well, I was mostly thinking I'd use logic to persuade you to give me a chance. The rest of it...logic will probably play some sort of role, but there are more important things in a relationship."

"I presume you mean emotions." Spock looks puzzled. "I am still a Vulcan, Jim. Would you be satisfied with a partner who is unable to return your feelings?"

"Are you really?" Jim asks quietly. Putting his leg down again, he scoots to the edge of the bed and leans forward to touch Spock's arm. It's the first time he's touched Spock, who goes still beneath him, but doesn't move away. Spock looks down at Jim's hand, then meets Jim's eyes again -- and what Jim sees is the first thing he saw in Spock's eyes, reflected now directly at him: vulnerability and want.

"I want you to be yourself," Jim continues softly. He rubs his thumb against Spock's arm, that one small movement making Spock tremble. "From what I've seen so far, I don't think that means an inability to return my...feelings. I don't mind if you're not demonstrative, Spock, but I think you're capable of more than you typically show."

"I believe you may be disappointed." He closes his eyes and moves his arm away.

"I don't." He doesn't touch Spock again, though he practically vibrates with the need to. "Just give me a chance, Spock. Give _us_ a chance."

"Why is this necessary?" Spock asks abruptly, his eyes flying open to meet Jim's. "Why can we not remain as we have been?"

Spock's voice is strong, but his eyes still betray him. Jim is shocked to see fear, there and gone so quickly he wonders if he imagined it.

"I still want to be your friend," Jim replies, puzzling over the fear. "And I would still want to be your friend even if we don't take the next step. But I can't help wanting you, Spock." And now, for the first time in this conversation, he asks, "Are you at all interested in me as more than a friend?"

"That is irrelevant," Spock says, which Jim notes is not a denial. "I simply do not understand why the companionship we have shared thus far is insufficient. Why is sexual intercourse required?"

Okay, this is definitely a concern he didn't prepare for. "It's just...a different kind of relationship, Spock," Jim tries to explain. But then he stops, not sure what to say.

How can he describe the kind of relationship he wants with Spock when he's never had it before? His lovers have never been his friends. Surely a romantic relationship is more than just friends who also have sex?

Spock watches his struggle for a moment, then says simply, "I would prefer not to alter our interactions at this time. If you still desire to be my...friend...even without taking 'the next step,' that is what I wish."

Spock stands, and Jim looks up at him and swallows. "I still want to be your friend," he confirms, but his brain feels numb and he barely knows what he's saying.

Spock nods once, sharply, and leaves. The door hisses shut behind him, final as the shutting of a tomb.

\--

Jim's first instinct is to pretend he's not that cut up about it. He'd like to say that it's the truth, not a pretense, but...it is.

He feels fucking hollow. Like Spock's rejection cut him open and scooped something out of him and his body's just going to cave in on the emptiness if Jim is ever so stupid as to let himself really feel it.

He acts normal. Bones can tell there's something wrong, but he lets Jim alone about it, beyond offering him a drink whenever he thinks Jim looks too mopey.

But Jim goes to class, and registers for next term -- not taking Vulcan -- and the next time he goes to the Xenolinguistics Club, he flirts with Uhura so heavily he thinks she's going to slap him halfway through. She controls herself, but her rage doesn't even amuse him.

He doesn't avoid Spock. He thinks about it, not sure he'll be able to see him without wanting him, but...he does still want to be Spock's friend. So he stops by Spock's office during office hours and launches into a question about Vulcan before Spock can say more than a single word of greeting.

It's awkward, but the awkwardness eases. When Jim can finally bring himself to look into Spock's eyes again, he still sees hints of vulnerability, want, and fear, but most of what he sees is gratitude. And that's enough to see him through the discussion.

But when he gets back to his room, he thinks about Spock's sure, slender fingers, the graceful points of his ears, his full lips, his high cheekbones. He thinks about Spock's voice, the smooth tones wrapping around him until he shivers. He thinks about Spock's eyes.

Then he moves to his computer and pulls up Starfleet's public information about Vulcans.

\--

Jim doesn't know where exactly he went wrong with Spock. The easy answer is that it was when he didn't know how to explain why he wanted Spock as more than a friend, but that doesn't feel right. That might be half the equation, but the other half, Jim decides, is that Spock didn't understand in the first place.

So Jim looks over the notes on Vulcan culture he took in his language classes, and researches more when he has an idea. But Vulcans are a very private species, and they don't share much about themselves. The more he researches, the more Jim gets the feeling that if he wants to know the real answer to why Spock didn't want to have sex with him, he's going to have to ask Spock himself.

Before he can call up Spock and ask for another meeting, though, he stops himself. _Should_ he keep pursuing this? Spock rejected him, and even if Jim thinks Spock does actually want him, that doesn't matter if Spock decides against it.

And he still doesn't have an answer for Spock's question. Why can't Spock be just a friend? Why can't he just be satisfied with what he has?

For whatever reason, though, he does need more from Spock. Maybe he could be satisfied if he were older and more patient, or if he'd been hugged more as a child. Maybe then he wouldn't be so greedy.

\--

Just a few days later he sits in front of Spock's desk, determined to follow the only lead he has.

"I was wondering about Vulcan telepathy," he says casually over a game of chess. "Do you mind me asking questions?"

"Ask, and I will let you know what I am unwilling to answer," is Spock's reply.

Jim pauses, trying to pick the best words, as he moves a knight to take one of Spock's pawns. "I know you're touch telepaths. Does that mean the only time your telepathy works is when you're touching someone?"

"For the most part, yes," Spock replies, with the most adorable wrinkle of concentration as he stares at the board. "However, I am capable of restraining my telepathy even when touching someone."

"But are there times when you don't need to touch someone?"

Spock looks up at him, tilting his head just the slightest degree in confusion as he makes his move. "For an actual exchange of thought, I must have contact with another's skin. More minor feats of mental influence can be done without touch, though. Furthermore, I retain a very low-level awareness of the rest of my people, and a greater connection with my clan and family in the form of mental links. Only the bondmate link, however, is strong enough to convey actual thoughts."

Jim moves a rook forward a few spaces, nodding thoughtfully. "I was doing some reading and saw a few references to that low-level awareness, and I was curious because I thought that you needed to touch someone."

"Again, for the most part, that is true. The awareness is minimal enough that I do not usually think about it."

"But still always there," Jim murmurs. "You're never...completely alone."

Spock looks sharply at him at that. "Only in a superficial sense," he says. "There are other factors that contribute to a sense of..."

"...Loneliness?" Jim finishes for him, and doesn't wait for him to respond. "It's still more than humans have. Apart from the very few people with high esper ratings, every human is alone. From birth to death, the only thing in our minds is us."

"Jim, what is this about?"

Jim picks up one of the pieces he's captured, a knight, turning it over and over in his hand. He's been fine talking about loneliness in theory, but can he bring himself to make it personal?

Nothing risked, nothing gained, he tells himself. He finally joined Starfleet because he refused to let fear keep him in mediocrity. He's not going to let fear stop him now.

"I have my issues," he says softly, meeting and holding Spock's eyes. "One of them means I have a hard time letting myself get close to people. I've slept with a lot of people, but the thing about sex is that it can be intimate without getting too deep. I don't need to be in love with someone to have sex with them. I can feel close without having to actually _be_ close."

"What about your friends?" Spock asks, his voice just as quiet. His eyes are dark, and Jim can't tell what he's thinking.

Jim shrugs. "I don't get too deep with them either," he replies, then amends, thinking of Bones, "Usually. But even then, it's not the same. My friends know me differently than my lovers have."

"Yet you consider me a friend, and you wish to have sex with me."

"Yeah." Jim closes his eyes and takes a deep breath before opening them again. "From the moment I first saw you, I wanted to know you," he confesses. "Wanting to have sex with you came later. Then the more I knew you, the more I wanted to know, and the closer I wanted to be. Whenever I'm with you, I feel less alone, but I still want to be closer."

Jim sits back in his chair, waiting as Spock moves a bishop. The room is still around them, but not tense. They play in silence, but Jim doesn't feel discouraged.

Then Spock murmurs, "I appreciate your honesty, Jim."

Jim nods, then chuckles slightly. "Being honest with myself was probably harder," he replies wryly.

"Indeed." Another few moments pass, then Spock says, "I am not comfortable with an immediate sexual relationship."

Jim sucks in a breath, his skin starting to tingle. "We can wait," he offers immediately. "But you're saying...?"

"I am saying," Spock replies, as he moves his bishop to checkmate Jim's king, "that you are not the only one who has felt...alone. Or the only one who wishes to be closer."

Jim knocks over his king as he reaches out for Spock, and this time Spock meets him halfway.


	2. Chapter 2

Jim's promise to wait for Spock to be ready for sex was immediate, an instinctive response to make Spock feel comfortable. He didn't realize how hard it would actually be to keep. This is the first time since he was fifteen that he's been with a person for weeks and hasn't even gotten to second base.

In the beginning, Spock showed an endearing hesitation with simple kissing, explaining it was not the usual Vulcan method of romantic interaction.

His hesitation was less endearing when he started talking about how unhygienic mouth-to-mouth contact was. Thankfully, he got over it quickly. And thoroughly. Jim using his tongue can still surprise him, but he's getting used to that.

But Jim is happy, despite the lack of sex. Of course, he would definitely like sex, but Spock touches him now like he's making up for lost time. Small touches, like a hand on his arm or brushing a wisp of hair out of his face or sitting and standing so closely their bodies brush against each other with every movement. Although the contact isn't sexual, it's so unabashedly affectionate that each tiny touch makes Jim disproportionately happy.

And his friends are noticing.

"Does this mean I finally get to meet him?" Bones asks out of the blue, and huffs when Jim blinks at him. "You've been obsessed with this guy for months, and now you're so happy I feel like _I'm_ about to break into song."

"Don't hurt yourself, Bones," Jim replies automatically. Spock...and Bones. Now that he thinks about it, he's not sure he's ever met two more disparate personalities. The two of them would probably either kill each other or become best friends.

"My friend Bones wants to meet you," he tells Spock later, as he studies for finals and Spock works on some science report. They sit close together on the couch in Spock's quarters. Earlier, when Spock made some noise about doing work at a proper desk, Jim plopped his legs across Spock's lap. Spock raised an eyebrow, but he didn't move, and went back to work on his PADD when Jim beamed at him, the tips of his ears flushing a delicate green.

"Bones?"

Jim grins. "Dr. Leonard McCoy," he clarifies. "I just call him Bones. And don't ask why, because you'll just end up concluding I'm illogical."

Spock eyes him, but Jim can see he's amused. "May I then ask why he permits you to call him such a name?"

"Because he couldn't stop me," Jim replies gleefully, and leans forward to kiss Spock's raised eyebrow. When he pulls back, Spock's face is tilted up towards him, his eyes warm and peaceful. Jim smiles, softer, and scoots forward to kiss Spock properly.

About a week later, he and Spock meet Bones at the same vegetarian place they'd gone to the first time they went out for a meal.

The first thing Bones says when he sits down is, "Thank God you've gotten him to eat something healthy. I'd like you just for that."

Spock looks...far too intrigued. "I take it his previous eating habits were less than satisfactory?"

"What eating habits?" Bones grumbles, crossing his arms. "All too often he'd forget to eat entirely. If he remembered, it'd be something like hamburgers and chocolate ice cream."

Jim coughs, both to get their attention and to remove it from his eating habits. He doesn't like to talk about that. "Spock, this is Leonard McCoy," he says dryly. "Bones, this is Spock."

"I knew that," Bones complains, but he holds out a hand. "Nice to meet you, Spock."

Spock looks at the hand for a long moment, then takes it and gives it a single polite shake before withdrawing his hand. "And you, Dr. McCoy," he says. Bones watches him remove his hand, but doesn't comment on it.

"So, Spock, I've read some of your articles in the Journal of Xenobiological Studies," McCoy says after they've ordered. "I got the impression that you're more of a scientist than a linguist. Are you teaching the advanced Vulcan classes just because you're Vulcan?"

"While a substantial factor, that is not the entire reason," Spock replies. "I am simply one among several Vulcans who teach those classes, though I remain the only one enlisted in Starfleet."

"What's the rest of the reason?" Jim asks, crossing his arms on the table and leaning forward. He's been assuming that the whole Vulcan thing covered it. He knows Spock is more of a scientist, but his interests are diverse enough that Jim never blinked at him teaching linguistics.

"Among my other responsibilities, I also teach the introductory course in xenolinguistics," Spock explains. "My interest in linguistics, while not as pronounced as my interest in the sciences, comes from my work with my mother. She is notable for her work on the universal translator, and remains a diplomatic interpreter to this day."

"Hnn," McCoy says. "So why did you enlist in Starfleet in the first place? I mean, you're the first Vulcan who has."

Spock pauses. "I believed it to offer better opportunities for scientific research," he finally replies. "Although I am currently an instructor, that assignment is not likely to last longer than the next two years, after which I believe I will be assigned to an exploration mission. The Vulcan Science Academy could not offer me a similar opportunity."

McCoy whistles. "You turned down the Vulcan Science Academy?"

"It could not meet my needs," Spock says stiffly. Strangely so. The conversation moves on, but Jim tags it in his memory to ask about later.

He gets his chance after dinner is over and McCoy leaves to head back to his room. Jim and Spock meander on their way to Jim's dorm, walking closely enough their shoulders keep touching.

Jim spends a moment just enjoying the summer night, the warmth presaging the imminent appearance of fall. The silence is comfortable as they walk, but then Jim asks, "What happened with the Vulcan Science Academy?"

Spock looks at him, about as startled as he gets -- meaning his eyebrow ticked briefly, Jim notes with amused fondness. "Jim?"

He shrugs. "It looked like McCoy hit a sore spot. I was wondering if there was anything else you wanted to share."

For a long moment, Spock doesn't answer. Just about when Jim decides he's not going to, he murmurs, "Vulcan...is not without its prejudices. The Academy disapproved of my mother."

Jim blinks. "Why? Surely they don't have something against diplomatic interpreters."

Spock's mouth quirks minutely, but then his face smoothes into impassivity once again. "No, but they are less sanguine about half-breeds." There is another pause, then Spock says, "My mother is human. The Vulcan Science Academy considers being half-human a disadvantage."

Spock is half-human? Huh. Jim ponders that for a moment, then dismisses it. Spock is still Spock. "So you turned them down because they insulted your mother?"

"Indirectly so, but essentially correct," Spock agrees, watching Jim out of the corner of his eye while most of him faces forward.

Jim looks at him, then takes his hand and smiles. "Their loss," he declares cheerfully.

Spock looks at their joined hands, then at the smile still on Jim's face. His eyes lighten and his mouth quirks again. With the sun setting as a background, casting the glints of his hair in shades of yellow, orange, and red, he's so beautiful that Jim can't resist kissing him, right there in public. It doesn't last very long, but when he pulls away, Spock's eyes are still smiling at him, and though their hands drop as they continue walking, Jim still glows from feeling Spock close beside him.

\--

The Academy breaks for the month between the summer and fall terms, and Jim's mom is home on shore leave from the _Ada Lovelace_ , the science ship of which she is the chief engineer, so he goes to visit her in Iowa for several days. He invites Spock, but Spock says he doesn't want to come between him and his mom. Even when Jim protests that he won't be a bother, Spock refuses.

Jim tries not to get too hurt. Spock has been a lot more relaxed around him since talking about his mother -- Jim guesses he hasn't met much acceptance in his life. But still, sometimes Jim forgets they've only actually been dating for a little over a month, and maybe it's a bit too soon to meet the parents.

So Jim goes home, and he spends time with his mom. In some ways, it's better than he thought it would be, but in other ways, it's worse.

He loves his mom, but there's a lot of baggage in their relationship. For a long time he resented her for leaving so often, and then he resented her for letting Frank pack him off to Tarsus, and then he resented her for not being there when Frank hit him...he has a lot of baggage. And he hasn't been the easiest son to her, either.

But she's still his mom, and when she was home, she was one hundred percent _there_. She taught him how to fish, and how to excavate honey from wild bees without hurting them, and how to play chess.

Now that he's an adult and actually making something of himself, he finds it easier to let go of his childhood resentment. And now that he's in Starfleet, he understands better why she couldn't leave.

Being in Iowa, though, reminds him that there's nothing there for him except his mom. His last night there, almost a year to the day from his meeting with Captain Pike in a bar, he goes to the shipyard to see the _Enterprise_. The ship is sleek and glorious, a queen getting ready for her debut.

Two years before she's ready. Two years before Spock leaves for his exploratory mission, very possibly on this exact ship.

In two years, Jim will be on her as well.

\--

Jim's second year starts off even busier than his first. He has an extra class to make up for taking Vulcan two terms, and this year he's starting to do more hands-on practical work like what he'll see on his actual assignment. Jim is Command track, so that usually involves doing simulations and then analyzing them and his own performance. It doesn't tend to leave him in a good mood -- even when the instructor says he did nothing substantially wrong, he always tries to figure out what he could have done better.

He's been getting snappish and irritable, though he doesn't like that either. Bones deals with it by threatening to update his immunizations and check for new allergies, which is a process horrific enough that Jim will avoid it when at all possible. So he doesn't snap at Bones too much.

But he and Spock have their first real fight when he's tired and frustrated and really wanting his favorite form of stress relief, which Spock is still hesitant about.

Jim's not proud of it, but eventually he just blows up at him. "What's the big damn deal?" he demands, after Spock lets him kiss his neck but won't let him go any further. "It's just sex, Spock! It's fun, it releases tension, it feels good! It's not even like one of us could get pregnant!"

"Your culture may consider sexual intercourse in such a causal manner," Spock replies stiffly, "but mine does not. I ask you to respect that."

Jim huffs, sitting back on his heels. "Spock, it's been months! How is that casual? And don't," he says, pointing at Spock, "tell me that it's casual because we're not married."

"All right, I will not tell you that," Spock replies, scooting back.

"Are you serious? You're giving me blue balls because you need a wedding ring first?"

Spock stands swiftly. "If your testicles are discolored, I suggest you look for a medical explanation. Furthermore, Vulcans do not wear wedding rings."

He leaves before Jim can do more than gape at him. As the door shuts behind him, Jim lets himself fall forward until his face is buried in the pillow. "Shit."

But he can't leave it like that. No man's died from blue balls yet. As tired as he's getting of his right hand, even a simple kiss from Spock is better than no kisses from Spock.

"I'm sorry," he says, getting it out of the way as soon as Spock, more blank-faced than usual, opens the door to his quarters. After a moment, though still without speaking, Spock steps aside so Jim can enter, and Jim does before he can change his mind.

"I shouldn't have gotten mad," he continues when the door closes behind them. "I don't want to have sex with you if you don't actually want it too."

"Apology accepted," Spock says quietly, and Jim lets his shoulders relax. "I, too, regret my...hastiness in ending our discussion."

"It's fine," Jim tells him, and watches him subtly relax as well. "Just, will you tell me why? 'Culture' is a bit vague," he adds with a smile.

Spock nods, then indicates a chair in his living room area. Jim sits down, and Spock sits in a chair across from him. "I believe sexual intercourse might be more significant for my people because we are reticent to open ourselves that way casually. As you yourself have noted, it is...intimate."

Jim considers that, and yeah, it makes sense. Especially with touch telepathy. "Okay, I get that," he says. "But do you really have to wait for _marriage_?"

"Marriage is not precisely required, no. However, I am reluctant to engage in such an intimate act without some degree of...commitment."

Jim doesn't know what kind of look he has on his face, but it must be something awful, because Spock immediately stands up and crosses the room to lay one hand on his.

"Jim, I do not doubt your feelings for me," he says, turning Jim's hand over to clasp it with his. Despite the strength of his words, his tone is soft and tentative, like Jim's feelings still surprise him. "And I assure you, my reticence is not out of a lack of...desire, for you. I simply request that you let me make that decision in my own time."

Jim looks at their hands, feeling like his fingers are tingling. "All right," he replies. "I can do that."

Spock smiles with his eyes, and Jim shivers suddenly, caught in their depths. He closes his own eyes to get a hold of himself, and when he opens them again, stands up. "I have to get back to work," he says. "I'll see you later?"

"Indeed," Spock agrees, and walks him to the door. Before he can leave, though, Spock takes his hand and shapes it so his first two fingers are sticking out while the rest of them are curled. He then touches the fingers with his own, and the tingle Jim had felt earlier spreads across his entire body.

"What was that?" he gasps, standing still to savor the feeling.

"That is how Vulcans kiss," Spock solemnly replies, and Jim has to kiss him the human way as well before he manages to gather himself and leave.

\--

The term doesn't get easier after that, but Jim takes care not to take his stress out on Spock anymore. He still goes to Xenolinguistics Club when he can, but pestering Uhura isn't as much fun as it used to be for some reason, so while it's nice for a change of pace from studying and working, it's not much of a stress reliever.

Jim spends a lot of time hunched over his computer or his PADD, and while he goes to the gym and works out pretty often, he never feels like he has enough time to get rid of all his accumulated tension.

As final exams approach, Spock comes to his room one afternoon and scolds him for the condition he's let himself get into.

"Humans can damage themselves from stress if they do not take care to manage it properly," he says severely. "You are done studying for the day, Jim. We have not spent time together in nine point eight days."

"Kidnapping me, are you?" Jim replies with a tired grin. He rolls his head around, bringing a hand up to rub the back of his neck.

"Are you feeling discomfort?"

"Just spending too long in one position," he assures Spock. "You're right, I probably need to do something else for awhile."

Spock takes a step forward. "If you will allow me to assist?" He doesn't wait for Jim to answer, though, instead gently taking his head and turning it so that it faces the desk, away from Spock.

"Spock, what--"

Then Spock's hands are on his shoulders. "Where is the discomfort greatest, Jim?"

"My neck, I think," Jim replies faintly, because Spock's hands immediately started moving, drifting around his neck and upper shoulders. "And -- and I have a headache."

"Relax, Jim," Spock murmurs, his voice low and deep, persuasive and soothing. Jim would give that voice anything it wants. "Relax, and let me help you."

Jim is so aware of Spock's hands it's as if the thin t-shirt he wears doesn't exist. Slender hands scope out the tense skin of his neck and upper back, Jim hissing periodically when Spock finds a particularly tight spot. Finally Spock lays his hands more heavily on Jim's shoulders and, returning to one of those tight spots, starts digging in his thumbs.

Jim groans first with pain, but the pain is transmuted into pleasure so sharply and quickly that he can't hold back the "Ah!" And then Jim can almost feel the muscles beneath relaxing, like Spock's touch is some kind of tranquilizer.

Spock's hands travel across his upper back and neck, stimulating and soothing until Jim feels like a mass of nerve endings alert to Spock's every minute movement. He wants to melt into a puddle right there in the chair, but he's held in place by Spock's lightest touch and the desire for this to never end.

He doesn't even know what sounds he's making as Spock finishes with his neck -- and then Spock's hands move up, tracing past his checks to rest against his forehead. Jim has one moment of clear thought as Spock hesitates, but then Spock starts moving his fingers across Jim's forehead and coherent thought dissipates into nothing.

He feels immersed in Spock's touch, in _Spock_. Like he is just an outline of a person until Spock's touch draws him into reality. He barely feels like he existed before Spock began to touch him.

Then he hears a moan -- and distantly realizes that it wasn't him. Spock's hands disappear from Jim's face and Jim is dropped suddenly into a world bereft of coherence. It takes a long, long moment before his brain starts working enough for him to turn around and focus again on Spock.

"Spock?" he asks, once his mouth also starts working.

Spock stands stiff and almost frozen, but at Jim's voice he thaws a little. He reaches forward, and with a touch so light Jim can barely feel it, traces two fingers down Jim's cheek. Then he steps back.

"Come, Jim," he says. "After all, I am kidnapping you."

Jim stares for a moment, then huffs out a laugh.

"Just let me get changed," he replies.

\--

Jim survives the fall term, made much easier with Spock's steadfast support. Almost before he can blink, the winter break arrives. Last year he spent it with Bones, who needed someone to distract him from his ex-wife keeping their daughter for Christmas and not inviting him.

This year, though, Jocelyn does extend that invitation, and Bones barely waits until final exams are over before he's on a shuttle back to Georgia. The _Ada Lovelace_ is back out in space, so Jim can't visit his mom, and Sam and his family are living on Earth Outpost II. Like with his mom, Jim loves his brother, but they aren't so close that he wants to go all the way to Earth Outpost II just to spend Christmas with him. Not when he can spend it with Spock.

He's not expecting anything huge. Spock, though he explained that his mother insisted they celebrate Christmas every year and he and his father indulged her, is still Vulcan. Jim is pretty sure he thinks the extended festivities are highly illogical, though Jim can't say he disagrees.

But for the first time in many years, Jim is actually anticipating Christmas's arrival. Jim was fine spending last year jostling Bones into a better mood because Christmas hadn't really seemed special since Sam ran away, and it was even worse after Tarsus. By the time Jim's mom divorced Frank and it was just the two of them, she was spending more and more time on her ship and he was on his own. He's never had someone special to share the holidays with.

Until Spock.

And Spock is still putting up with him. He puts up with Jim singing carols, and then laughing at the face Spock makes. He puts up with Jim trying to get him to drink hot chocolate all the time. He puts up with Jim insisting he come over to help decorate the tiny tree Jim got for his room.

The things Spock puts up with amazes Jim. Even Bones by this time would be kicking him out and getting a drink, and Bones learned to tolerate Jim very quickly, possibly out of self-preservation.

But no matter how many times Spock mumbles about Jim being illogical, he keeps watching Jim's exuberance with soft eyes and quirked lips. Jim, always enchanted by this tiny hint of smile, will often get even more enthusiastic, and Spock...Spock actually seems to enjoy it.

The days pass quickly until finally it's Christmas Eve. Jim records messages for his mom and brother and sends them out, then briefly calls Bones and chats with him until his daughter jumps on his lap and beams at him, after which Jim graciously lets him go.

Jim heads out for Spock's quarters when he can't stand being by himself any longer, Spock not at all surprised to see him there hours before they planned. But Jim is good, and lets Spock go back to writing his latest article as he borrows Spock's PADD and reads up on warp core mechanics. Just being here, in rooms infused with Spock, listening to the faint fast clatter of keys as Spock types, is relaxing.

They make dinner together. Spock usually uses the replicator for meals, but Jim insisted on actually cooking for Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, claiming that he could taste the difference between replicated food and cooked. Spock wore his 'illogical' face at the time, but now Jim thinks he's beginning to get why Jim wanted to cook. They work together in the kitchen, even though Jim is mostly the one directing Spock. Spock is adorably incredulous when Jim cups a hand under a spoonful of minestrone soup and holds it out for him to taste, but he leans forward and samples it before pronouncing it satisfactory. He pulls a baked Vulcan vegetable dish out of the old-fashioned oven, and doesn't move away when Jim crowds in close to him to taste it and see if it's done.

They play chess after dinner, and as their third game comes to a close, Spock says, "Jim, it is a tradition in my mother's family to open one present on Christmas Eve. I do not have more than one gift for you, but I would like to give it to you tonight, if that is acceptable."

"Like I'm going to turn that down," Jim replies with amusement. He clears his throat. "And actually, I brought my gift for you over already as well."

"Does your family have a similar tradition?"

"Uh, no." Jim's lips quirk up. "Actually, I was hoping to talk you into letting me stay the night, so I could give it to you first thing in the morning. I don't even mind sleeping on the couch."

"That will not be necessary," Spock tells him, brushing his fingers over the back of Jim's hand. "My bed is large enough for two, and I trust you not to press beyond my wishes."

Jim smiles at him, picking up his hand and kissing the palm. "You got it," he replies. "Let me go first?"

At Spock's nod, Jim gets up and retrieves the bag he used to bring some of the food, where he also hid Spock's present. He pulls it out and hands it to Spock, then returns to snuggling up against his shoulder.

Spock unwraps the present methodically, so careful not even the tape tears away any of the wrapping as it comes apart. Finally he sets the paper aside.

"Go is even older than chess," Jim murmurs as Spock holds the set on his lap. "And like chess, it's a game of logic as well as tactics and strategy."

"I have heard of the game," Spock replies softly, "but I have never played it. Are you proficient?"

"I know how to play, though I wouldn't call myself proficient." Hoshi Sato taught him, in that brief period before the fungus when every Tarsus colonist worked close together, bound by common endeavor into family until it all fell apart.

Jim hasn't played Go since Hoshi's death, but he thinks she'd approve of Spock.

Spock sets the game on the table, then turns slightly and lifts Jim's face up with a finger under his chin. He leans forward and kisses Jim, softly, slowly, _thoroughly_ , like he understands what it means to Jim to give him this game.

Jim kisses back, immediately and instinctively, pressing close against Spock, who slowly shifts until he's laying back on the couch with Jim half on top of him. They kiss wetly for long moments, and then Jim pulls back just enough to trail kisses down his jaw and onto his neck, laving his pulse point with his tongue before sucking gently, not even enough to leave a bruise.

He's exulting in the taste of Spock's skin, somehow a bit more spicy than salty, when he feels Spock's hands move up his back under his shirt, and he freezes. Spock has never done that before.

"Spock...?"

"My present for you, Jim," Spock says as Jim raises his eyes to meet warm brown ones. "One difficulty I have with gift-giving holidays is the uncertainty surrounding an appropriate gift. I believe, however, that you have been wanting this for some time." Something like wonder fills his eyes with the last sentence. That Jim still wants him? As if Jim could stop.

"But you just said -- you said you trust me not to go further than you want," Jim protests dumbly. Really dumbly. Is he really going to turn this down? "Spock, I don't want to go further than you're ready for."

Spock raises a hand and brushes a few strands of hair away from Jim's forehead. "I do trust you not to go further than I wish, Jim," he says, and his eyes flick away almost shyly before returning to Jim. "That does mean that you are welcome to go as far as I would like. And I would like to give this to you."

Jim buries his face in Spock's throat and just breathes for a moment. He's always thought that the idea of 'giving' oneself to a person, particularly on a holiday, is too sappy and trite to be at all attractive. He still thinks it's sappy, but...that doesn't necessarily make it less meaningful.

He kisses Spock's throat before sitting up. "Come on," he says, standing and holding a hand out to Spock. "The couch is not the most comfortable place for this."

Spock nods solemnly and places his hand in Jim's as he also rises. Hand-in-hand, fingers tightly intertwined, they walk into Spock's bedroom.

Jim's lust simmers, but he forces it into the background. Spock would deny it, but Jim can tell he's nervous. Jim is not going to do anything that might scare him away.

And it's not at all a hardship to undress him slowly, unwrapping his present as carefully and methodically as Spock had earlier unwrapped his own. He presses kisses against newly revealed shoulder blades, runs his hands down newly bared arms.

Eventually Spock moves to undress Jim as well, and Jim lets him pull off his shirt, lets him press kisses of his own against Jim's bare chest. Spock doesn't yet move to touch his pants, so Jim sits on the bed and draws Spock over him, pressing down on his back as Spock's lips move along Jim's collarbone. Jim's skin feels like it's singing as Spock's chest hair rubs against his belly and Spock pins him to the bed to pretty much ravish Jim's skin with his tongue.

For the first time, Jim understands that sex...doesn't have to be just sex. It's always been intimate, but Jim thinks he understands only now exactly _how_ intimate. Spock lets Jim strip away their clothing, lets him look, lets him _see_. Jim lets Spock see him in turn, in an act more fraught with tension than undressing has ever been for him before, because Spock _matters_. It's almost terrifying, how much Spock matters -- but it would be even worse to be without Spock altogether.

Spock hisses when Jim closes one hand around him, his eyes wide in surprise and wonder. Jim moans as Spock tentatively takes up a rhythm of his own, playing Jim's body with a hand different but deft. They move close against each other, legs wedged between legs and free hands wandering. Spock closes his eyes, but Jim nips at his ear and his eyes fly open again.

"Look at me," Jim pants as his body shudders and electricity runs through his veins. "Spock, Spock, _look_ at me."

And Spock does. His eyes remain on Jim's as Jim's hand speeds up. Jim can see the rush towards the precipice in brown depths, can see the amazement and the fear as Jim's free hand takes Spock's and locks their first two fingers around each other. He can see the vulnerability as Spock falls, his erection jerking and spurting in Jim's hand. His mouth opens in a silent cry, but his eyes remain locked on Jim's.

Jim follows before he even realizes it's happening. He lets go of Spock and reaches around him to crush them together. He squeezes his eyes shut, but Spock's hand drifting on his face prompts him to open them again, and the sweet satisfaction of Spock's expression finishes him, the vulnerability eased as Jim clutches at him and finds his release.

They hold each other in the aftermath, foreheads pressed together and breathing each other's air. Finally, when Jim no longer feels like his heart is going to run away without him, he rolls off the bed and heads to the bathroom for a washcloth. Spock sits still as Jim cleans him up, then takes the washcloth and returns the favor. Jim returns it to the bathroom, and when he comes back out, Spock is under the covers, clearly scooted to one side with enough room for another person.

Jim slides in beside him, immediately cuddling against Spock's shoulder. Spock orders the lights off, then shifts until he can wrap an arm around Jim. Jim falls asleep before he can even murmur a good night. The last thing he feels is Spock pulling him closer.


End file.
